


Hope

by Kit_SummerIsle



Series: Cybertronian Advent Calendar [16]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Advent Calendar, Hope, M/M, Philosophy, winter sun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Advent Calendar Day 19 - prompt: winter sunlight<br/>Some meditative sunlight<br/>G1-ish, during the war</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope

Their race was fading, powerless in the servos of cruel destiny and waning like the dim, cold sunlight that barely lit the cold emptiness around him. Barely a servoful of mechs lived and fought still under this sun that wasn’t even theirs. Cybertronians had no sun any more to call their own, their pride and vainglorious actions lost it for them a long time ago. This faded, weak, cold sunlight was like his race, their stubborn inability to change, their obstinate war that carried on empty of meaning and for eons a goal too… neither of them had hoped for a peace any more, none of them had plans for… for after. There was no after. Only a war, only now, always now. No future.

The winter sun of Earth would in time gain strength, hope, fresh light and warmth to give it to the planet and renew it, reignite the teeming, tenacious, robust organic life on it. Mechs were not so fortunate. The sun for them only carried photons not life, warmth, but no new promises, no new life, no changes, no renewal and certainly no hope. It was empty… as empty as they were themselves. The weak yellowish rays slid down from polished plates, barely touching them, never reaching inside to warm sparks or processors. They remained cold, untouched, obstinately holding on, while the organic life changed around them every season, renewed itself, lived, truly lived and died to be reborn. 

Maybe they had it better, Starscream pondered. He’d of course never change his being, his processors, his _wings_ for anything organic, but he could contemplate the effects of a shorter lifespan, the ability to change faster and the advantages inherent in such a life. Humans were in general disgusting and irritating, but they could still teach Cybertronians a few things just by their existence. The sunlight, weak as it was showed him this much as the red optics stared fearlessly into its source. But then, they missed at least as much as they had right, he snorted and tried to shake off the sudden, strange mood that came to him while he was waiting. 

“A credit for your thoughts… your wings could still show me things I fail to understand, apparently.”

Starscream whirled on one thrusters to face the mech who could surprise him so. The raised null-rays whined with power before powering down as he recognized the red-blue frame and the silver mask. 

“Not worth even that much…” – he scowled – “Useless ponderings, worthless philosophing and empty, weak musing like this fragging winter sun.” 

Optimus stepped closer, glad to be able to make it to their secret meetings for once, even if he didn’t quite know what to do with a contemplative Starscream. It was one facet of his lover that he’d never seen before. 

“I don’t find your thoughts useless… you have a brilliant processor and anything that takes this much of our concentration must be worthwhile.”

White wings lifted slightly at the praise, but Starscream shook off the meditative mood as quickly as it came. Maybe one orn he could discuss it with the Prime, they’d have more time than just for a quick frag and a shared cube, maybe one orn they could meet freely, maybe… fragitall, he was now infected with the mood and the hope he didn’t believe in, not for a slagging astrosecond…

“That’s flattering but right now my processor is already more in the gutter than in any kind of heights.”

Starscream purred as he drew Optimus’s warm frame closer, the familiar lust overcoming the strange mood – forced at first but then naturally warming his energon. He glanced up once more to the dimming, cold sun light and burrowed back into the warm embrace. He’d take hope from here and the organics could keep their fragging sunlight.


End file.
